


The Adventures of Goatratio Hornblower

by sanguinity



Category: Hornblower - C. S. Forester
Genre: (although honestly Hotspur getting weekly mail service is crackier than the goat), (but shhhhh let's disregard that), Epistolary, M/M, Siblings, not quite crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:56:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23747194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinity/pseuds/sanguinity
Summary: William's sisters name a goat after his captain.
Relationships: William Bush & Bush's Sisters, William Bush/Horatio Hornblower
Comments: 28
Kudos: 30
Collections: Unsent Letters 2020





	The Adventures of Goatratio Hornblower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldenhart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenhart/gifts).



> Many thanks to Grrlpup and Colebaltblue!

H.M. Sloop Hotspur, Portsmouth  
24 March, 1803

My dear mother and sisters,

Forgive my absence & my haste — Fortune has smiled upon Hornblower (you remember, the shipmate I chanced upon again during my last journey to Portsmouth) & because I happened to be standing close by, also upon me. He has been made commander into a sweet little sloop-of-war, scarcely large enough to warrant a lieutenant, but a lieutenant she shall have, & it will be your own son and brother.

Boney is restless & we are outfitting the Hotspur with all speed — I regret there will be no time to return and say my farewells before she sails. Please send my sea chest by the next waggon & do not worry. I am jubilant to have a ship at all, of course, but I am exceedingly pleased to be sailing with Hornblower again — he is a fine man and a better officer. I am arranging that you shall have my pay through the same agent as before. Libbie will at last have her goat! In fact, I insist that my first month's pay be spent on none other, a farewell present from her loving brother,

Wm

⁂

Chichester  
27 March, 1803

Dear brother,

Jenny spent the night finishing one more shirt for you while I turned out & repacked your sea chest. I think you will find all in good order. There is a gift from Libbie under the lid, which she was saving for your birthday — you will find her needlework is much improved since you last went to sea. Nell included two tarts, & Mother warns you to eat them promptly and be careful of crumbs, lest the rats find a way into your chest. Jenny also proposed including a handful of garden earth in your chest, lest you come to miss the feel of it under your nails, but she was overruled by more sensible minds. 

War again so soon! I know you are eager for it, but Mother will miss her son & we our brother. Give Boney a thrashing for us & come home in one piece — Libbie has become very fond of you, now that she has come to know you. Her affection for you is equalled only by that of her sisters, & first among them,

Nora

⁂

Dear Will,

I have a goat! Mother says I must write and thank you. Captain Hornblower is brown with white spots and has beautiful curled horns. Jenny is teaching me to milk her. She's already the very best goat, and you're the very best brother.

Love,  
Libbie

⁂

H.M. Sloop Hotspur, at sea, off Ushant  
6 April, 1803

My dear mother and sisters,

It is good to have occupation again! It is blockade duty for us, keeping an eye on Boney's doings & keeping his navy bottled up in Brest. If we are lucky we shall take a coaster or two, fat prizes that will fetch a pretty penny at auction & then you shall all have fine dresses & dowries. We shall be back to Tor Bay regularly to re-water & re-provision, although I fear the demands of the Service will prevent me from often making the journey to Chichester. But mail will arrive more promptly here than it did in the West Indies or the Mediterranean, & I look forward to your letters.

My sea-chest arrived in good time — thank you for your good care. The tarts were delicious, one last taste of home before months of salt rations. The new shirt fits perfectly — I shall keep it back in case I am ever asked to dine with the admiral. Libbie's handkerchief is beautiful, & I recognise very well her little garden patch — I will be glad to have this to look upon in the summer, when I shall not be there to see the garden in person. I appreciate, too, Jenny thinking so kindly of the state of my nails — she was always the most considerate of my sisters.

I am pleased to hear that you have acquired a goat so quickly, but do I read correctly that you have named it Captain Hornblower? Please, please, for the love of my career & the pay I send you every month, do not let Libbie — or Jenny, for I am sure that she is behind this — name the goat after my commanding officer. I know you say that you miss me, but surely you cannot want me home again so greatly as all that,

Yr brother,  
Wm

⁂

Chichester  
14 April, 1803

Dear brother,

Libbie is thirteen & fully capable of naming a goat all by herself. No one asked my opinion, nor are they likely to, but I personally think it a v. appropriate name: it is only due to your captain's generosity that we were able to afford a goat at all, & so it is fitting that she be named in his honour. Your Captain Hornblower almost feels like one of the family, after all, given how much you talked about him while you were home.

With love,  
Jenny

⁂

H.M. Sloop Hotspur, Gulf of Iroise, outside Brest  
24 April, 1803

Dear sisters, and particularly Jenny,

Forgive me, I did not realise that I spoke of my time with Hornblower overmuch. If hearing about him is unpleasant to you, then I shall not tell you about his wedding. He married the day before we sailed, and I stood beside him as his best man — but no, I am boring you again.

Your choice of namesake for the goat could not be more absurd. I have sailed with many goats over the years, & they were all fine sailors. Never seasick, nimble in all seas & healthy in all weathers. Whereas poor Hornblower… God love him, but for as professional & seamanlike an officer as he is, he is a terrible sailor. This commission, he was seasick even before we passed the Isle of Wight, & would have been overboard if Cargill, the master's mate, had not caught him in the process of pitching over the side. He spent the next two days ill in his cabin & according to his steward, had no food whatsoever for fear of it all coming up again. You must see that your naming a goat after him is absurd, & while I am cognizant of the honour she does my commanding officer, I must insist that Libbie name her goat after something else.

Wm

⁂

Chichester  
30 April, 1803

Dear Will,

I think it's monstrously unfair that you're withholding wedding stories because of Libbie's goat. I didn't have anything to do with its name, and should not be punished for it. Tell us about the wedding, please — was your captain very handsome in gold braid & a sword? Was his bride beautiful? Was there a carriage w/ white horses?

Love,  
Nell

⁂

Chichester  
10 May, 1803

Dear brother,

You say your Captain Hornblower is unlike a goat, and yet he sounds uncommonly like our Captain Hornblower: ours, too, spends a great deal of time ill. In her case, it is an abundance of optimism over what is edible, but the fact remains that Captain Hornblower (ours, not yours) has also spent the last two days ill over everything she has attempted to eat.

So you see, it is not a ridiculous name, and if our Captain Hornblower teaches your Captain Hornblower to be a better sailor (as surely she must, being a v. clever goat) then it is all for the best!

Jenny 

⁂

Hotspur, Gulf of Iroise  
16 May, 1803

My dear sisters, only one of whom is deserving,

Because Nell asks, she shall have the story of the wedding: Hornblower and I both wore our dress uniforms, his with a modest amount of gold braid as befits a Commander, mine with hardly any at all, as befits a poor lieutenant. We both wore our swords, and he cut the cake with his (although if his mother-in-law knew where that sword had been, she would have been less eager to demand the gesture). There were no horses to his carriage — Navy folk do not have much truck with horses — but in the finest Naval tradition, Hornblower's carriage was pulled by sailors, running in two long parallel rows, in new ducks for the occasion, their drag-ropes pipe-clayed to a bright white. I daresay they were a finer sight than horses, and would stir patriotic feeling in the breast of any man. I know v. little of Hornblower's bride, having been too busy putting to sea to make her acquaintance, but she is the daughter of his erstwhile landlady, and while she is no great beauty, she seems devoted to H——, as she should be. Forgive me, Nell, for not taking better note of what she wore: I can only say that it was a dress of some sort, white, and probably with ruffles. I hope she had much joy of him on their wedding night, for we sailed at dawn two days after, and it will be three months before we return to England to rewater.

As for the rest of my sisters, who are not as deserving as Nell: again, I cannot protest enough how much I dislike your naming a goat after my commanding officer. Hornblower is a young and new commander who feels his dignity v. keenly, & he would be humiliated if he knew what you have done. I owe him my livelihood & esteem him greatly, and could not abide him believing that I view him as a source of fun. Which of course he must believe, should he ever find out about it. I, overburdened with sisters as I am, know that they are headstrong and willfull, but he is a man without sisters, and thus is likely to mistake your initiative for mine. Please, I beg of you, rename the cursed goat.

Yr loving brother, who sends his pay every month and asks for v. little in return,  
Wm

⁂

Chichester  
25 May, 1803

Dear William,

Please don't fret yourself — no one actually calls the goat 'Captain Hornblower,' not even Libbie. Jenny, as you can imagine, calls it that mostly to tease you, and only in letters. We mostly call the goat Horatia or Horny. (And only sometimes, if the goat is being excessively bossy, Captain.) But even if someone were to overhear one of us calling her 'Captain,' there is no reason anyone should think it was your captain — if anyone asks, we will simply say it's named Horatia in honour of Lord Nelson.

Be v. happy you're away at sea right now, because Horatia broke into the garden and ate all the turnip tops & half the turnip roots besides. Alas, she did not considerately eat half of the number of turnips, but half of every turnip. There was nothing to be done but have them all out of the ground, trim off the goat-nibbled bits, & boil the rest for supper. Indeed, we have supped on naught but boiled turnips for days now. Thank Providence & your captain that we can afford butter for them now, but poor Nell, she still gags at the smell nearly as much as you do. Libbie does not love them much better and is in a pet about being forced to dine on them, but it is only fair that she eat her share — it was her goat, after all, that she failed to watch and allowed to break into the garden.

Except for the mishap w/ the turnips we are all well here; even Mother is doing better, now that the spring has warmed. There is little news to report — is there ever? — so I shall sign myself, yr loving sister,

Nora

⁂

Hotspur, still in the Gulf of Iroise  
2 Jun, 1803

Dear Nora,

I had expected better sense from you — you gravely underestimate what a captain knows. This afternoon on the quarterdeck I swear he looked into my very soul and knew that my sisters had named a nanny goat after him. He will find out, I tell you. A captain knows. A captain always knows.

Wm

P.S. Poor Nell! I should have fed all the turnips to the goat, if it likes them so well!

⁂

Chichester,  
10 June, 1803

Dear William,

Alas, it was Nora who discovered the turnips, & you know what she's like. As for your captain's hurt dignity, how could he possibly find out? You are foolish in many ways, but surely you know better than to tell him.

In any case, it is far too late to change Captain Hornblower's name — she knows it now, & comes running whenever she is called. Captain Hornblower is a very affectionate goat, & loves to have her head scratched, just above her horns, right between her ears. (Can your Captain Hornblower be said to do the same?) She is quite the favourite of all the family, and would be yours, too, if you gave her a chance.

Love,  
Jenny

⁂

H.M. Sloop Hotspur, Iroise Sea  
17 Jun, 1803

Dear Jenny,

Please know that I would not normally use such language to ladies, but everyone knows that sisters are the very blackest and most evil creatures, placed on this Earth to torment a man out of his wits:

Damn you to hell. Tonight I was invited to dine in the captain's cabin, & the only thing I could think about during dinner was whether H—— would be sweeter-tempered if someone were to give him a good scritch on the top of his head, just above his ears.

I have faced both the French and the Spanish, been fired at with hot shot, and have fought against such desperate odds that it required fifty-three stitches to put me back together. But never have I known fear like I knew fear tonight.

Wishing I had never been cursed with sisters,  
Wm

⁂

Chichester,  
28 June, 1803

Dear Brother,

We are sorry indeed to hear of your misfortune (although I must admit it caused much merriment here). Nell in particular sends her commiserations — she feels it must be very mortifying to want to scratch your captain between the ears. But we are reminded of your previous letter & most desperately wish to know: did he know? Is it indeed true, as you claim, that a captain always knows?

With sympathy and affection (& only a little laughter),  
Nora

⁂

Hotspur, Iroise, &c.  
7 July, 1803

My cursed tormenters,

Hornblower indeed noticed my discomfiture, & when he asked what so ailed me such that I could only stammer instead of answering intelligently on the matter of the mizzen backstay, my ears flamed hot. The look he gave me! It seemed to me in that moment that he must know all. I writhed in shame that I could imagine such a thing, even for an instant, of my captain. And not just any captain, but one to whom I owe so much! His brows drew down into a ferocious glare, but he did not press further. The rest of the meal passed in agony, Hornblower in a silent rage, and myself in silent embarrassment. At last we finished our meal — or he finished his, for I could not bear to touch mine — and he dismissed me. I fled from that cabin as I have never fled from the enemy.

~~The absolutely unconscionable thing is that I should like to pet his brow~~

In short, yes, a captain knows. A captain knows, and things have been ill between us since that night.

Wm

⁂

Chichester  
16 July, 1803

My dear little brother,

I despair of our Navy, if this is your standard of secret-keeping. I wonder that the French do not know every plan of the Admiralty in advance of your making it! Of course your captain would know, if you sat across the table from him signalling like a semaphore tower! It is a wonder you didn't crawl across the table and put your hand on his brow outright, you were so discreet!

(You really must learn to blot out your writing more effectively. You let your writing dry before covering it w/ fresh ink, and Libbie was able to take your letter out into daylight and distinguish the older ink from the newer. I'm sure it passed inspection in your dark hovel of a cabin, but in the bright light of Sussex, to the sharp eyes of a thirteen-year-old, it was clearly readable.)

Dear Will, you great clot, what ever are you thinking? Your feelings of great 'esteem' and 'friendship' for your captain have long been noted here, and Jenny & I (but not, I think, Nell, being too young to understand the furor at the time) remember well your regard for Tom Martins, and the trouble it led you into. Sea was supposed to cure you of such passions, not give you wider scope for them! Jenny has wondered ever since you came home if it is the same w/ your Captain Hornblower as it was w/ Tom, and I wonder that she has the right of it.

Oh, my foolish little brother, would that God granted you wisdom! Write back & unburden yourself to your loving sister, older and wiser than you. We will devise some solution to your problem, I am sure. In the meanwhile, do learn to hide your blushes! It has been a fault of yours ever since you were thirteen, and you never yet have outgrown it.

Yr loving sister,  
Nora

⁂

Hotspur, &c.  
25 July, 1803

Dear Nora,

You make far too much of ten minutes, & always have! Please be assured, your ten minutes give you no advantage in wisdom or experience — indeed, you have never left Sussex in all your life, & yet I have travelled the world. I have seen battle and led men — and what have you done? 

And when, when, will everyone forget Tom Martins? I was a boy then, my infatuation an innocent & childish one. My offense was not so great as to deserve the consequence. I admit a career at sea has suited me well, better than any other would have, but still Father acted hastily — nothing would have come of it, I swear, had I been permitted to stay in Chichester.

And I assure you, nothing will come of this now. It is only esteem & loyalty that I feel for Captain Hornblower — the same esteem and loyalty as any lieutenant might feel for any captain. Hornblower is a good man & a better officer, & it fills me w/ pride to serve under him. ~~I only wish that he would ask more of me me, that I might~~ It is not wrong to idolise one's captain. ~~In fact, it is in the best tradition of the~~

By God, I would rather speak of Libbie's cursed goat than write more on this topic. Tell me, how is your Captain Hornblower, and does she give you all the grief that you deserve?

Wm

⁂

Chichester,  
3 August, 1803

Oh, my dear blockheaded brother,

Protest as much as you will: just as you were born my little brother, so you will remain until the day you die. For all your supposed worldly experience, you have profited v. little by it! I do not doubt your knowledge of winds and tides, but you know far less of the world than you think, confined as you have been to your little wooden boats. You are well-versed in mathematics and seamanship, yes, but what do you know of affairs of the heart? Have you raised three sisters, and dried their tears when they cried?

But you wish not speak of your troubles, and to instead hear of Captain Hornblower (ours, not yours): She has much tried Libbie's patience by eating her roses, thorns and all — it was almost enough to rupture the amity between them. A few blossoms yet remain, and we brought them inside for safekeeping. Fortunately, Libbie's daisies escaped Horatia's gullet — why should she be so contrary to prefer thorns to something softer and more succulent? — and Libbie has pressed several blossoms for you, so that you might see her garden, now that it is in bloom. Perhaps you should give one or two to your captain as a sign of your esteem and friendship? Or if that is too close to the mark, as a sign of your sisters' gratitude to him for employing you. Surely he must get tired of looking at the French coast. A daisy might be just the thing to lift his sprits,

Nora

⁂

Hotspur, still in the Iroise Sea, where I shall die of old age, still blockading Brest  
10 August, 1803

Dearest sisters,

In truth, we are all tired of looking at the French coast. Hornblower has led one raid ashore, but I was not allowed to come — instead I must stay behind and see to Hotspur in his absence. Except for that one night's work, it has been all tedium: sail drill and gun drill and counting the ships in Brest roads. For want of occupation, the gunroom has banded together to make cabin furnishings for Hornblower, all painted with little roses. By this I judge that we will all go mad soon, if we have not gone mad already.

I must have gone mad indeed, for I gave one of Libbie's daisies to H——, as you suggested. He fairly goggled at it before recovering himself, and then took it with grave dignity. I told him about Libbie's goat eating the roses but sparing the daisies, and it seems to me he smiled, before folding the daisy in a handkerchief and carefully placing it in an inner pocket. He invited me to dine with him then, the friendliest he has been since that last accursed dinner.

Over dinner he quizzed me on all of you — I think he is a lonely man, and much feels the want of sisters. He believes you must be a comfort to me, and I was quite unable to tell him all the ways in which you are a scourge — he must never, ever know the name of Libbie's goat. It was on the tip of my tongue to invite him to Chichester — but again, there is that accursed goat. They must never, ever meet! But a cheese, perhaps, as a token of your hospitality and esteem? I think he and his lady would appreciate a gift of a cheese, should Captain Hornblower (yours, not mine) see her way to it.

When an opportunity to give such a gift will arrive, I do not know — we will not be back to England any time soon. Should the Admiral have his way — and only the sea surpasses Admirals in getting its own way — we will rewater and revictual here off Brest, never returning to England, until the end of time or the end of the war, whichever shall arrive first.

Thank Libbie again for the daisy; it has done more good than she can imagine.

Yr son and brother,  
William

⁂

Chichester  
20 August, 1803

Dearest Will,

Of course you may have a cheese! Nell and Libbie have been learning the art from Maisie Cartwright, and they will be happy to set a wheel aside for you. Do not worry about how long it may be before you can claim it — it will take some time to cure in any case, & if need be, we will eat this one and set aside another, & continue to do so until such time as you return from sea to claim it.

In the meanwhile, we are all v. pleased that you are on good terms w/ your captain again! Libbie is ecstatic to be the agent of your good fortune, and includes for good luck another few pressed blooms (these also rescued in a race against Horatia's voracious appetite), in case you should ever again need to wheedle your way into your captain's good graces.

Yr loving sisters, but most especially,  
Nora

⁂

Plymouth  
January 9, 1804

Dear Mrs Bush, Miss Bush, Miss Jane, Miss Helen, and Miss Elizabeth,

Mrs Hornblower and I thank you for the very kind cheese you sent to us, courtesy of your brother Lt Bush. We have never before seen a cheese decorated with daisies & other blossoms pressed into its rind, but it was lovely indeed, and tasted very well. Honoria must be a fine goat; it is certainly clear from the quality of the cheese that Miss Elizabeth takes very good care of it indeed. Thank you again for your kindness in thinking of us.

Your humble servant,  
H. Hornblower  
Cmmdr, H.M. Sloop Hotspur


End file.
